


Hits You like a Red Motorcycle

by fawndant



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), The Girl Got Hot by Weezer softly plays in the background, help my boy, i might continue this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 13:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16598822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawndant/pseuds/fawndant
Summary: Lance stayed in Cuba over the summer and Keith is a lovesick fool with a bike.





	Hits You like a Red Motorcycle

“Lance, I know we haven’t seen each other in three months, or whatever, but it’s _five fucking o’clock_ in the morning. _Why the hell are you calling me?_ ”

Lance just chuckled at the rough grumble of his newly awoken best friend. “I need you to come over. ASAP. It’s important.”

He could practically hear Keith’s massive eyeroll through the phone.

“ _Why??_ ”

“Because…” Lance started, but found it too embarrassing to say out loud. “Just because. Please?”

Keith let out an angry groan as his head flopped on the pillow, “Are you serious?”

“As serious as pizza rolls on bros night.”

Lance listened to Keith take in a huge breath and blow it back out in a huff.

“Fuck. Whatever. Fine,” he said, and Lance couldn’t help but smile at his usual grumpy demeanor. “It better not be like a joke or something stupid, though, or I’m never giving you a ride again. Ever.”

Lance fake gasped, “You wouldn’t!”

“You bet your sweet cherry ass I would.”

Lance couldn’t contain the giggle that bubbled out of his throat listening to the slight Texan accent/figures of speech that always seemed to come out when Keith was tired. Another huff later and Lance could make out the sounds of Keith’s bedspread shuffling.

“Fine. I’m up, but this better be good,” he said.

Lance bit his lip, looking in the mirror in anticipation.

“Oh it is. It definitely is.”

After a hasty hang-up, Keith dragged himself fully out of bed and made his way to the shower. There wasn’t much more to his morning routine. Shiro was downstairs, still in his pjs, making a smoothie bowl or whatever-the-fuck health food he was into.

It was always a weird day when he was ready before the golden boy.

“Morning,” Keith waved, picking through the bowl of keys at the door.

“Morning,” Shiro said, though it came out more as question than a greeting. “What are you doing up?”

Keith pulled the keys to his motorcycle out and grabbed his helmet from the rack. “Lance,” he said.

A true indication to just how many times Lance had pulled shit like this before, Shiro just sort of nodded. “Okay, you out of here, then?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s the first day of school though.”

“…Yeah, what about it?”

“So mom’s gonna want pictures, is what I’m saying.”

Keith groaned, hand hanging off the doorknob. “You wanna wake her up for that?”

Shiro rolled his eyes, “No. But she’ll never let me hear the end of it if I don’t snap one or two,” he said.

After an awkward mini photo-shoot in the dim lighting of their kitchen before sunrise, Keith grabbed all of his stuff again and reached for the door. “Later,” he called. Shiro nodded over his coffee, “Bye, be careful,” he said.

“Sure, mom.”

Keith slipped out the door before Shiro could get the last word in and retrieved his bike from the garage.

It was a quick ride, just five minutes to Lance’s house. As he passed by Hunk’s place he idly wondered why Lance didn’t call him instead. Landing at Lance’s doorstep, the first signs of dawn were beginning to show.

He briefly considered knocking, but not wanting to anger Lance’s mother, he just texted Lance that he was outside.

About a minute later, Lance opened the door.

_Holy sh_ -

 

“Hey!” Lance said, happily grinning his same dopey smile, but it was different. It wasn’t soft at the edges, where his cheeks would buff it out. Where there was once a bit of roundness to his face, he now had a sharp jawline, crisp features, and holy shit his shirt was literally hanging off of him.

“Did they starve you in Cuba??”

Lance beamed and laughed, “It’s different, right?! I lost about thirty pounds over there. My aunt was on this diet and my uncle was teaching me how to dance so it just sorta fell off!” he explained.

Keith felt like he’d literally had the breath knocked out of him. Lance had never been chubby by any stretch, but he’d never been skinny either. The boy in front of him was a twig. But a toned twig?

“That’s so crazy…” Keith said, still taking it all in. It wasn’t doing great things for his heart.

Lance nodded, and then opened the door a bit wider so he could come in. “Right? I mean, it feels super awesome. I’m breathing better too, yanno? Dancing is way harder than it looks,” he said. “I made waffles, by the way,” he tagged on.

Keith raised an eyebrow.

Lance rolled his eyes, “Yes, they’re blueberry.”

“Sweet.”

The pair made their way into the kitchen, Lance practically skipping at Keith’s reaction. After waffles were doled out and Keith had smothered his in entirely too much syrup, the conversation picked up again.

“So is that why you made me come to your house at fuck-all in the morning?” Keith whispered, aware of Lance’s smaller siblings filing onto the end of the table for breakfast and the wrath of Lance’s mother should she find out he so much as even thought of cursing in their presence.

Lance rubbed at the back of his neck, “Well… kinda? I didn’t wanna call Hunk because, well, he’d tell me I’d look good no matter what, and also you’re um… gay too? So.”

Keith rolled his eyes, “What does my being gay have to do with anything?” he asked, stuffing another bite into his mouth.

Lance gnawed on his lip. “I just… I needed to know if, _yanno_ , I looked good enough for another guy to think I’m… pretty,” he said, a slow blush crawling all the way to his ears as he spoke.

Keith cleared his throat. “Um. Yeah? I mean, if you weren’t my best friend and all, I guess I’d think so?”

Despite that train wreck of a sentence, Lance had spent enough time with Keith to realize that it was, in fact, a compliment. The small smile he got in return left Keith insides flipping. He tried to stop it by forcing another oversized bite of waffle past his lips.

“Thanks dude,” Lance said.

Keith was hoping beyond hope that his face was free of a blush as he squeaked out, “No problem,” past bits of cakey breakfast pastry. A he swallowed, though, another thought hit him.

“But… why did you need to know if you’d look good to guys or not?” Keith asked, a sinking feeling replacing the flopping, like the waffles had just changed to rocks.

Lance fidgeted and squirmed in his seat, poking at his waffle, “Uh… it’s not really a huge deal or anything, but, um. I guess I figured, I look pretty good now, right? It’s senior year, so at least I get one good go of it. So. Maybe… it would be kind of a revenge thing when Rolo saw me?”

Keith tried to hide his emotions somewhat as he tried not to drive his knife through the plate. “Lance… you’re not trying to, you know,” Keith made a signal with his hands because he couldn’t make himself say the words.

_You’re not trying to get back together with him, are you? Because that would kind of crush me, not gonna lie_.

Lance’s eyes went wide, “What?! No. No way. That ship sailed a loooong time ago. Nope.   
That’s… just no,” he said, lifting Keith’s grim mood just a little in relief.

“I just thought…” he started, eyeing his waffle like it murdered someone, “That maybe if he saw me all, you know,” he said, gesturing to himself from head to toe, “he’d… regret it. Just a little,” he said.

“It” here referring to the Most Horrible Breakup Ever, after which Lance had spent three days curled up on Keith’s bed crying and berating himself.

And yeah, Keith wouldn’t mind making Rolo regret a lot of things, preferably with his shoe stuck halfway up his ass, but not if it came at the cost of him _gawking_ at Lance like a fucking predator. Just the thought of it made Keith’s blood boil.

“Hey. Dude. Listen, I promise it’s just for revenge, okay? I wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole,” Lance said, somehow able to read the scowl that had firmly planted itself on Keith’s face.

The black-haired boy stared at him for a moment, calculating, before sighing and turning his attention back to his food.

“Fine... But if he tries anything, he’s fucking dead,” Keith said, angrily sawing off another bite.

Lance chuckled, “Thanks, but I doubt he will. He made it _very_ clear he wanted nothing to do with-”

“ _Dead,_ ” Keith interrupted. Huffing, he stuffed his face with his last bit of waffle and went over to the sink to leave his plate. “Hish losh,” he said, knocking Lance gently on the back of his head.

“What?” Lance asked, turning around to face him. Keith held up a finger and swallowed.

“I said, ‘His loss’,” Keith clarified, checking his phone for the time. Still hella early. “And that bitch he’s with now? Definitely a downgrade. Pretty sure she’s cheating on him, too. So… you already won, you know?”

Lance was looking at him like he made the sun shine, and that look… wasn’t good for Keith’s mental health.

“You wanna go for a ride?” he asked, trying to cover up the uncomfortable guilt in his stomach. “We’ve still got like an hour before class because someone wanted to show off,” he said. The banter was good for hiding his feelings, maybe because it never failed to pull a reaction from the other boy.

Lance sputtered, “I wasn’t showing off! I just wanted my best bro’s opinion, sheesh!”

Keith had the sarcastic nod pretty much perfected at that point. “Sure, Mr. ‘show me what your gay eyes see.’”

The argument continued until they were out of the house and piling onto Keith’s bike. Keith would be lying if he said he hadn’t bought a messenger bag instead of a backpack just so he could give Lance a ride to and from school every day.

“…Which is an entirely different thing, so I’m not a fucking narcissist, you jerk,” Lance continued, swinging his leg over the bike to sit behind Keith.

Keith rolled his eyes and kicked the bike to life.

“I missed this thing,” Lance said, throwing on his own helmet.

“It missed your annoying ass too, I’m sure,” Keith told him.

Lance popped his chin over Keith’s shoulder, catching the double meaning. “Awww, you do care,” he said, laughing. Keith pressed on the window of his helmet with his palm, pushing him back. At least this time he didn’t have to worry about hiding the blush, his helmet did that well enough.

They drove across town for a while, but since they had some time, Keith decided to take them for a detour around some of their favorite backroads. Straight-shot pavement, with trees on all sides, and just far enough out of town that there wouldn’t be any cops.

Lance’s mother would kill Keith on the spot if she ever knew the kind of shit he pulled with her son hanging onto him for dear life, but that death might be worth it if he still kept getting the weird happy twist in his gut every time Lance hugged onto him a little tighter. One time they’d gotten up past 120 mph and Keith still had dreams about it.

It hadn’t been the time for that, though. Mornings were slow. Mornings were watching the scenery pass you by and Lance curling into you because he’d always been cold and the lack of sun didn’t help that. And as long as he’s pressed into you, you forget that you’re best friends and that you can’t dream about it because he can’t see your face and he can’t tell what you’re thinking like you’re always afraid he will and every time you go over a bump he makes this little “Woop!” sound that you can barely hear over the wind and your combined helmet barriers but you swear it’s one of the best noises he makes and his hands are always crumpled in your shirt every time you take a curve and the sun is rising and kind of getting into your eyes and you’re pretty sure you should be heading back into town now because time has a way of slipping past you when you’re like this and you’re pulling into the parking lot of the high school for the hundredth time and despite how much you never want anyone else to see him or love him or hear his laugh or notice his newfound confidence when he’s already been beautiful _for years_

…he lets go.

**Author's Note:**

> *Creeps out from the hole I've been hiding in for months and drops this fic in your lap like I never left*
> 
> If you'd like to see this continued or if you have a suggestion for a continuation, DM me or leave me a comment! They fuel my creative genius like no other.
> 
> Also, I know.   
> I suck.   
> I've left "Training Heels" unattended for... *counts on fingers* ...four... months?  
> BUT I PROMISE I'M GOING TO FINISH IT  
> soon
> 
> ...ish.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!!! <3


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